


Prologue

by MonstrousRegiment



Series: Bell's Toll [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, because i get the feeling some of you have what you might called misplaced faith, imagine this at the beginning of the story, in erik's trigger finger, this is the prologue guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonstrousRegiment/pseuds/MonstrousRegiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original prologue for The Bell's Toll that I forgot to post to the story in AO3 like the absolute incompetent idiot I am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this story in AO3 after I had nearly abandoned it because Pangea renewed my faith in it. And when i did I sort of forgot to post this because it wasn't in its own file XD So long had passed that I forgot it ever had a prologue. My apologies and... a cookie?

“This,” Charles said, sitting down on the one chair and crossing his legs. “is pleasantly symmetric, don’t you agree?”

Erik didn’t answer. 

“I’m just saying,” Charles continued. “Tit for tat, old friend.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Erik asked. 

“Obviously.”

Erik closed his eyes, pressed his face to the cold cement of the floor.

“Then why not do it already? One bullet, clean death—I gave you that much, Charles. You owe me.” 

“Oh, yes,” Charles said softly, silkily. “One bullet—I remember. Three years of my life, gone. Yes—I owe you _so much_.” 

Erik gritted his teeth, struggling to sit up, an impossibility given the way he was tied up—tied up with steel cable, of all things. He tried to feel for it, but it felt like half his skull was empty, and where his gift used to be laid a huge, sucking void like an open mouth. If he contemplated that void too much, he could feel his mind begin to fracture into madness. 

“I never took away your powers,” he said tiredly. 

“I hope you’re not complaining that I’m not treating you justly,” Charles arched a brow. “Because after you shot me in the back of the head, I might just find you slightly hypocritical.” 

A long pause. 

“I made you into this,” Erik said quietly. 

“Yes,” Charles nodded, blue eyes electric. 

“There was a time, not so long ago, where you might have found it within yourself to forgive me,” Erik sighed, going limp against his bonds on the floor. He was tired, so tired. Bone-weary, exhausted, and this creature in front of him—this Not-Charles, this cold-blooded remorseless killer made the fine hairs on his neck stand up.

Charles had lost so much weight since the last time he had seen him—he was sharp and honed like a blade now, muscles long and flat—nothing like the soft firmness of a healthy man, writhing fluid like a snake beneath Erik’s fingertips. 

Five years. Five years since that night. 

“That Charles Xavier is dead,” Charles murmured pensively, and he might have caught that fleeting thought, or he might not. “You put a bullet through him, remember?”

Erik closed his eyes. 

_I’m sorry, old friend_ , Charles whispers, caress-soft, in his mind. _But this was a long time coming._


End file.
